


Tickles

by RenaRoo



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 03:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4288416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niner is surrounded by memories when she meets her brother once again, ones that remind her she’s never getting the brother she remembered back. But then, he’s not completely gone either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tickles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/gifts).



> Original headcanon by goodluckdetective: http://goodluckdetective.tumblr.com/post/120158641190/hello-red-verses-blue-fandom-i-am-going-to
> 
> A/N: It’s gotten to the point where I’m determined to use Iz’s own headcanons against her. ANGST ATTACK CONTINUES 
> 
> For goodluckdetective ;P

Carolina and Washington are familiar enough that Niner doesn’t trust them -- she doesn’t trust them as far as she could throw them. Which is saying something as she was never the Caboose that was known for hurdling distances. 

But Michael -- Mike, Mikey, her baby brother -- he’s something else entirely. She is intimately familiar with him. She knows her baby brother’s every smile every laugh and snort, every awkward shuffle like the very back of her hand. 

She _knows_ Michael J. Caboose. 

And that is why she knows that she doesn’t know anything about the man standing before her now.

Landing and reintroductions had been enough to knock the wind out of her as it was, but now she’s been given space to get reacquainted with the real source of shock for everyone today. She thinks even if Carolina, Wash and their colorful troops had told Michael to leave the boy would have stuck to her like glue. 

Niner can relate. She never wants to have him out of her sights again. She can’t bear to look at him. She’s incredibly conflicted.

There’s not a twinkle in those big brown eyes like Niner is used to seeing from Michael. He doesn’t have that slight squint her brother always gave when he was _really_ focusing on something or someone. And while he was never the most coordinated of their 18 siblings, Niner can’t help but feel like the flat footed way Michael stands before her now is completely unlike the boy she knew.

He looks the same, but he doesn’t sound the same. He _was_ slow and drawn out in his words, cautious right until his sentence catches up with his own momentum. Michael never had a way with words but he certainly hadn’t sounded like he was a rampaging toddler. Not since he actually _was_ one. 

Niner was always Michael’s favorite sister, and yet as she looks at him now she can’t help but feel that other than remembering she’s his “Freckles” -- the original, anyway -- there’s not much in common with this lumbering giant. 

Unable to contain his excitement any further, Michael J. Caboose lunges forward, sweeps her off her feet, and squeezes her midsection with all his might, burying his face into her shirt so happily it makes Niner want to scream. 

She wants to scream at him to stop, to not pretend to be the brother she knew anymore.

But her body seems to override her. It moves in ways it hasn’t since before Project Freelancer, on shore leave when her brother swept her off her feet and spun her through the air like he had since he outgrew her. Her hands slip forward, arching her over her brother’s shoulder, and press into his armpits. 

Immediately, Michael squeals but hugs tighter. His laughter is like a broken up tune -- high pitches and low rumbles. It chills Niner to her very bones to hear it again. 

She traces her fingers down lower, watching he spasm of muscles -- there’s so many scars and marks and Niner doesn’t know how she’s keeping down her lunch at the sight of them all because they’re _on her baby brother_ \-- and she feels a smile yanking at the corners of her mouth. 

“Freckles!!! No!!!” Michael howls, dropping onto his back, rolling with her. 

“Freckles, _yes!”_ Niner preens, and she thinks she hasn’t felt this way since she was seventeen, sitting on her brother’s chest and tickling at his sides and his soft tummy and under his chin. All the spots she’s tickled since he was in diapers. 

Big fat tears are forming in the corners of Michael’s eyes, his blush is dusting across his face and ears and spreading down his neck -- she can just imagine how it’ll grow down to his chest like it always has. 

Except she doesn’t know for sure it still does that. Because Michael, the real Michael, her little Mikey, would be pushing back and trying to mimic mom’s tone with _“Andromeda!”_ just to push her buttons. 

This... this is _Caboose._ And he’s not doing that. He’s taking these tickles like he’s apparently just stood around and taken every other mark on his being. And that makes Niner positively _sick.  
_

She pushes off from him, sits flatly on the floor, and glares at this man.

It takes a moment, but Caboose pushes up to his elbows and stares confusedly right at her, face drawn in concern.

“Freckles?” he asks. “Um. We were just laughing, having a good time. What are you crying at?”

“Huh?” she responds eloquently before taking a wet sniff. She reaches up to her cheeks and feels the thick blubbering tears over her cheeks and roughly begins rubbing them away. “Shit, get it together, Niner.”

Caboose watches her. “I’m sorry I made you cry,” he says sincerely.

Niner feels her body convulse and she buries her head into her hands. That just made it worse, but she’s determined to get it together so Caboose never knows that. She’s got to get it together so she can make sure these fuckers never hurt her brother again. 


End file.
